New Title 1 (21 page)

Chapter Thirty Eight

“Come on!” someone shouted in the crowd.

“Show us some blood already!” another one yelled.

The audience at the Dungeon was getting rowdier and rowdier by the second, but Rafe didn’t give a fuck. Instead, he cocked his head and admired the view. Yara’s ass was definitely worth worshiping. She looked simply edible in those tight spandex shorts and red sports bra that barely covered her uber-toned body. And her I’ll-eat-you-for-dinner attitude was the perfect icing on that delicious cake.

She shifted her weight, probably waiting for him to make the first move. Her beautiful features didn’t mask her fury at him for intervening on her fight. Fair enough, but Rafe couldn’t help himself. Just like at every other time they’d met – he just couldn’t help himself.

And now they were here. In the cage, circling each other. For a moment, Rafe forgot about the crowd, the bet, the white bullets and Phillip’s demand. He was lost in
her
. Yara was the epitome of female power, a true Amazon.

A small growl escaped his lips. He couldn’t help it. His wolf was aching to show her what
his
male power was made of. 

She must have read his mind, because she narrowed her brown eyes at him then exhaled sharply. “Despite having enjoyed our little dance, champion boy, I have someplace else I need to be.” Then without any further ado, she charged a sequence of high kicks at him, striking him squarely on the side of his head and shoulder.

By the gates of Hiad! Rafe stumbled backwards and lifted his forearms to block her attacks. He didn’t think she had recognized him from the masquerade party, or if she did, she was pissed off at him for leaving, because those kicks meant business. And Rafe had better get on with the program before she could make meatballs out of
his
balls.

He ducked sideways and managed to block her moves but before he could recover, a double cross punch connected to his face.

Fuck! That hurt!
Was she for real?

He glowered at her. She lifted an eyebrow at him.

He swallowed the pain shooting up and down his ribs and forced his head with grey matter to take over from the other one.

Another perfect flow of punches were flown at him at a speed he had only seen in pro matches, but this time he was ready. Before her fist connected to his jaw, he swayed back and grabbed her wrist tightly, then swung her around, trapping her in his arms. Her back glued to his torso. Her delicious backside rubbed against his hip.

“Leaves after the rain,” he whispered in Yara’s ear, then rubbed his nose alongside her neck. A small smile curled up his lips when he noticed she was shivering from his touch.

Rafe’s hunger stirred awake inside. He leaned forward and opened his mouth to lick the sweat off her smooth skin, but before his tongue tasted her elixir, a piercing pain shot up his chins and ripped him off air.

What the?
Damned witch!

She had nailed a good one on his chin. He shoved her away with a grunt. His move was a bit stronger than he’d intended and Yara stumbled across the small ring then bounced off the grid on the opposite side.

Rafe took the chance to massage his aching legs, and find himself surprisingly amused by the ghost of a smile that lifted Yara’s beautiful features. “Damned witch,” he cursed silently and couldn’t stop his own lips from curling up slightly. She’d definitely be his downfall one day.

But the pain and his smile vanished as soon as he saw that Yara had inadvertently smacked onto something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Wires snaked up from underneath the fighting platform, connecting the two pillars behind her. Rafe hadn’t noticed them before.

The hairs on the back of his neck stoop up, his ears pricked, his insides tightened in alert. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

Yara had noticed it too because the sexy-wicked vibe she was giving off just seconds before was also gone, replaced by alertness.

Rafe scanned the crowd while his brain tried to make sense of what was going down. His acute eyes spotted a scrawny looking vampire rushing away through the mob. Rafe frowned. What in Hiad was Remi doing here?

Then he heard it – a high-pitched ticking sound, coming from somewhere under Yara’s feet.

Fuck.

It all happened like a movie in slow-mo.

Yara looked down and realized what was making the ticking sound. She turned around and faced him. Her eyes wide.

The ticking stopped.

Rafe lunged forward, at the same time Yara leaped upward in the attempt to jump over the fence, but the bomb exploded before she could reach the other side.

The impact blew Rafe backwards, but he managed to roll over and avoid a bad fall. Yara wasn’t so lucky. She was flown across the Dungeon and hit the far wall. At once, Rafe stood up to go help her, but he was too late. The heavy score board got freed from its bolts and went crushing down, straight over her head and shoulder.

Rafe’s breath got choked in his throat.  Utter shock froze his every limb. His mind went completely blank, his heart skipped a beat, his feet glued to the ground.

The dust lifted and he spotted Yara’s legs underneath the rubble. Lifeless, bloody, torn.

And then, he saw red.

Part 2

“The future depends on what you do today.”
(Mahatma Gandhi)

Chapter One

The world was spinning. Grey ceiling and grey walls, no, white walls and a window, a wooden window. Where was she? Yara blinked. It didn’t help clear the blurriness. She tried to turn and move, but it was hard, something was stopping her. She tried again, harder this time around. Piercing pain shot up her left shoulder. Someone cried out nearby. No, it was the sound of her own voice. What had happened? Why was she in so much pain? Unable to hold herself up, she let her head fall back down and noticed it met soft ground, probably a pillow.

Words in a deep, smooth voice, reached her ears, like a whisper. Someone was talking to her. She fluttered her eyes open – when had she shut them? Blurred colors came to view first, then she saw a chiseled jaw covered by light stubble, grey eyes, flooded with concern. Did she know that man?

“Where am I?” Yara croaked out. Her voice was so husky. Her throat was so dry.

The man replied but her brain didn’t register. Too dry, her throat was too dry. Birds sang nearby. A car roared in the distance, far away. She wasn’t near the road. The man mumbled something again. A glass touched her lips. Strong hands cupped the back of her neck, lifting it up.

The blinding pain struck again.
No, stop!
What was he doing? Did he want to hurt her? No, she wouldn’t let him. She struggled against his grip. She had to leave, she had to run away, but the man was too strong. He was saying something but it hurt too much. Her left arm and shoulder throbbed, as if they were being ripped off.

Too much, too much pain. Can’t take it. Agonizing. Blinding. Can’t move fingers, can’t move arm. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe!

Blackness.

Chapter Two

Rafe sat down by Yara’s side, feeling utterly helpless. The fever had struck her hard, and she had been hallucinating and shaking and mumbling and crying ever since he’d brought her to his farm. Nothing he’d given her, no pain killers had worked, but for some reason, some miracle, her shoulder was slowly mending itself up again and the ugly wound on her shoulder blade was almost healed.

Rafe dampened his finger in the glass of water and let it drip into Yara’s mouth. It had been the only way to get fluid inside her. After a few more goes, he placed the glass on the side table and checked her vitals again. Her pulse was strong and her irises were responding to light – thank Apa Dobrý.

He exhaled a long sigh, then stood up silently and left the room.

By the time he reached his porch his cigarette was already lit. He stared at the rising sun, casting an orange glow on the rolling hills of his property. The cows were munching on grass, birds were waking up, everything seemed quiet and endless at the same time. There was a sense of stillness in country life that Rafe found very soothing. It was his respite from the hustle and bustle of the city. For that reason, his favorite time of the day was this one – the sunrise. And the best place to watch it from – his porch. But not even its warm rays had managed to calm his nerves today.

He ran a hand through his thick mane and took another drag on his cigarette. He should have taken Yara to a hospital, but it was too risky. Whoever planted the bomb underneath the fighting ring had clearly wanted to do great damage. It was best to keep a low profile for a while. Besides, he didn’t know what kind of witch Yara was. Imagine if she had two hearts, or gills for lungs, or some other weird shit like that? Now imagine an unknowing human doctor finding that out at a public hospital? What a mess it would be. No, her best chance was where she was, with him, at his home inside his wolf pack territory. No one would dare come looking for her here.

His ears picked up the roaring of a truck turning left onto his gate. Shit. Whoever it was would find his or her visit cut short. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to whoever was driving up his trail, to be frank. Rarely did he come to this part of the world, and when he did, he kept it to himself, relishing the sunrise alone. That was the way he liked it, and the very few people in his pack who still spoke to him, knew it.

A moment later, a black 4x4 truck appeared on his driveway. Rafe let out a breath of relief then hauled it back in when he saw Archie’s grim face.

His best friend and partner stepped out of his truck and slammed the door shut. “Done,” he said answering Rafe’s silent question.

“Where?”

“Mount Sinai Hospital in Astoria,” he replied. “I sneaked in a fake entry in their books and lodged a death time for our Jane Doe at 3:45 a.m. this morning.”

“Good,” Rafe replied then exhaled another puff of his cigarette. If Yara’s killer was still searching for her, trying to find proof of their job, they’d think they hit their target and leave her alone. That’s why he’d asked his best friend – the only person he truly trusted in life – to cut one out for him. Archie hadn’t been overly happy with the idea, but he hadn’t argued. Not yet, anyway.

His blond friend shoved his hands in his pocket and kicked the dirt underneath his boots. Rafe narrowed his eyes at the scene. In the long years of friendship, he’d learned how to read his friend quite well. Clenching his jaw meant he was angry, fidgety hands meant that he was hungry, rubbing his ear with his fingers meant he was lying and kicking the dirt meant…

“I don’t like this.”

… that he didn’t like this.

Rafe looked away.

“I mean, why did you have to bring this chick here? To
our
territory?”

“She’s not a
chick
.”

“You should have left her at the Dungeon or dumped her body somewhere.  That’s what you should have done. She’s trouble.”

Rafe’s blood boiled, his eyesight funneled up. He saw himself lunge at Archie and grab his best friend’s collar. “Don’t you fucking dare repeat that,” he growled.

“What in Hiad?” his friend choked out, surprise stamped on his face. “Just saying, man! No need to bring the claws out.”

Rafe paused, then frowned. It was only then he realized his claws were fully extended; white fur was already emerging from his pores. It all had happened too fast, as if it were someone else, as if it wasn’t his hands clutching at his best friend’s collar. Fuck. Where did that come from?

“Sorry, man,” he mumbled and stepped aside. “Just don’t repeat those words again.”

Archie’s Adam’s apple worked up and down, as he blinked a few times. Yeah, he was probably trying to make sense of this whole thing, as much as Rafe was. He had called Archie to help him unearth Yara from the debris, carry her out of the destroyed club and bring her to safety. At that time, Archie had suggested to dump her somewhere and sell the bullets in another estate, but Rafe had been too shaken up to take in his suggestion. So he just told him to keep on driving. He’d hoped his friend had taken the hint, but he obviously hadn’t. It simply wasn’t right, despite her being the enemy. Well, technically she wasn’t his
enemy
, was she?

“Shit, cuz’. You never talked about her, you never even mentioned that you were seeing someone,” Archie mumbled.

“I’m not,” Rafe replied. “She’s just a guarantee against the vamps, that’s all.”

“What if they come looking for her, huh? Or worse, what if uncle finds her here?”

“Fuck, Archie, you sound like an old lady! The only way the vampires will come looking for her is if you fucked up when planting the DOA file at the hospital,” Rafe growled, but deep inside he knew Archie was right. He took a deep breath and forced his beast to calm down. “Look, man, it’s just for a few days, until I find out who the fuck was behind the attack at the Dungeon. Then I’ll let her loose.”

It was Archie’s turn to look away, then he kicked some more dirt. “Don’t know, Rafe, that bomb was much too big a move, too much exposure. It’s like using a cannon to kill a fly. Why would someone set off a bomb at a club full of fighters?”

And that was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it?

“Maybe the bomb was meant for Yara,” Rafe voiced out the suspicion that had been nagging him for the past two days. Phillip had ordered him to kill her, but what if he wasn’t planning on giving Rafe a chance?

His friend frowned, then narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think it was a coincidence that the deal was going down at the same night that Phillip ordered me to kill Yara.”

“But the bomb exploded
before
we even got the chance to meet the buyer. As soon as the bomb went off in the main area, everyone scattered around like cockroaches.”

“Something doesn’t glue here, Archie. Phillip knew I was going to be at the Dungeon, what if the bomb was supposed to have killed me as well as Yara?”

His friend clamped his jaw tight. Rage poured out of his eyes. “Fucking Hiad,” his cousin swore under his breath. “Who would want that?”

Who wouldn’t?
Rafe shook his head. “Beats me,” he replied. Archie’s anger reflected in his own voice. “But I’ll tell you this, I’m gonna find the motherfucker who did this, and when I do, not even the Apa Dobrý will save the bastard’s ass.”

The sound of tires on dirt road made them both pause.

“Damn it,” Rafe swore, putting out his cigarette. He recognized the sound of that car from miles away. He strolled to the front door and ensured it was closed. His uncle’s visits were as unpredictable as a woman’s whims. It wasn’t a secret that there wasn’t any lost love between them. The guy obviously hated Rafe, but he loathed even more the fact that without Rafe’s money the pack would have gone bankrupt a long time ago.

Rafe leaned casually on the porch’s pillar, folded his arms over his chest, and waited for his uncle to step out of his brand new Rolls Royce. From the corner of his eye, he saw Archie sit down on the top step. 

“What do I owe the honor of your visit, Roger?” Rafe asked when his uncle stepped out. He was in his usual “I’m a cowboy” outfit – jeans and collared shirt, complete with hat, round belt buckle and boots. So cliché.

“I heard you were back in town,” Roger replied, stopping a few feet from Rafe’s front steps. It was supposed to be a sign of respect, but Rafe knew it better.

He kept his poker face neutral, but inside his mind was working overtime. Roger’s deference could mean only one thing – Uncle Roggie needed money.

“Are you staying for long?” Roger asked.

He just shrugged in reply.

“How’s the gym?”

“Same.”

“How’s life in the big city?”

“Jersey can hardly be considered a city, let alone, big.”

“Really?” Roger asked back, as if the information just shared was the most important piece of his life’s puzzle. Douchebag.

Rafe clenched his jaw tight. There was only one thing that drove Rafe madder than having to be cordial to his uncle; it was having to put up with his beating around the bush all the time. But not today. “How much?” Rafe asked.

His uncle paused, a hint of shock showed in his gaze.

“Come on, Roger,” Rafe drawled. “Do we have to do this every time? I know you need money. You know I know you need money, so let’s just get down to it, alright? I’ve got work to do.”

Roger’s jaw popped, but he didn’t snap. It was probably a family thing. “This time is not for me, OK?”

“It never is,” Archie mumbled from below.

“It’s for the girls,” Roger carried on, ignoring Archie’s comment. “They need money to finish the sculpture.”

“What sculpture?”

“The butter sculpture for the fair,” Roger replied with a what-do-you-mean-you-don’t-remember look.

Shit, Rafe had forgotten. The fair wasn’t just any fair. It was the Great New York State Fair. His entire pack spent months preparing for it every year. As dairy farmers, they saw in the event the biggest opportunity to showcase their products, seal new deals and fill up their pockets. In a good year, they could make in the twelve days half of what they made the entire year. And only the Soartas knew how much his pack was in need of a “good year” lately.

Rafe ran a hand through his thick hair. Damn it. He couldn’t let his family down. He’d promised his cousins he’d help them, they had been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time, but right now, his cash fund was running on empty. “When is it again?”

“In two days.”

Fuck.

Rafe glanced at Archie, and didn’t find any comfort in his friend’s grim stare. He knew that the more Rafe gave his uncle, the more he went into debt, and the more their gym had to make it up to paid it all off. Yeah, talking about vicious cycle.

“What happened to the last loan I gave you?”

His uncle shrugged, then adjusted his cowboy hat in his head. “The new milking machines I was sold were not ... err … of the quality they promised.”

Archie shook his head. “I told you that contact of yours was full of shit.”

“Nah,
he
was good, it was his provider that screwed us over.”

“You used that same friend of yours to cut you a deal, didn’t you?” Rafe asked, already knowing the answer.

Roger looked away.

Great, his beloved uncle had burned through another 200 Gs in record time. With an alpha like that, who needed enemies? Rafe’s patience was running thin. “By Apa Dobrý, Roger when are you going to learn that paying cheap is paying double? Weren’t the last two times enough of a lesson for you?” he exclaimed, unable to hide his frustration.

“Look, we’ll pay you back, business is growing. Everyone is saying that the fair this year is going to be bigger than ever before. We’ll be millionaires by the month’s end.”

“Just to lose everything again later,” Archie mumbled again.

“Watch it, Archie,” Roger snarled. “I’m still your alpha.”

Archie snorted, but didn’t push it further.

Rafe ran his hand over his jaw and scratched his stubble. He hated his uncle for driving his pack to the ground, but he would hate himself even more if he let his family lose everything they’d worked so hard for. He exhaled a sharp breath and made his decision. “Wait here, I’ll get you a check.”